balls out is tiring

My BUS 4615 had its Bear Grylls adventure this weekend and keeping with the theme of "leading on the edge" they encouraged us to go "balls out" all weekend. What is that you say? An esteemed ivy tower of academia would not use the term balls out? Well I was there and you weren't, so let's just say they did and I won't have to cut you. K? See, I decided to go balls out which involved mostly running through the woods with a compass in my hand screaming 'I can't read this thing!' Wandering around lost, hanging off a wire 50' in the air, doing duck and roll exercises, all the while operating on 4.7 hours of sleep, then rappelling off a mountain side into a faux arsenic disaster perpetrated by a mining company. (key point, faux, no arsenic was harmed in the making of my Bear Grylls weekend)

Then we had to "process" our "feelings" and talk about which "energies" we were "pushing" the most during the exercises. At which point I was told that I'm 1) very organized (duh.) and 2) too emotional (ehh?) as a leader. The funny thing is that I'm not even all that concerned about the "emotional" label b/c it came from two of the most non-emotional, empathy-vacant, men on my team. (Love you much, boys!) I'm upset that the only descriptors people could muster about my leadership abilities was "organized." What. The. H-E-Double Hockey Sticks? Gee if Ms. Organization was leading the war in Iraq, we'd be home by now. Wait... actually, sure, why not. Hokay, but what if you are trying to round up the courage to take that hill and secure the fort? Not to worry, your organized leader will inspire you with her tales of color coded tab folders. Don't you feel ready to die for your country? 'See, you use the label making machine to put the proper labels on the jars so you know which sized bullets are in each one... this prevents you from mixing them up.'

Could I be inspiring, supportive, ethical, diligent, engaging or even maybe, outgoing? But organized? Is that all I'm known for? If you're ever looking for a CEO who can collate, I'm yer woman.

In a word, I'm pooped. I think I'm coming down with something or I'm just bored. Maybe both. All I know is I'm tired and my 2:30 nap didn't make me feel better. Perhaps I need a 4:30 nap to round out my day. And some wine. Yes, yes, wine will make it all better.

Here's some evidence of me going balls out:

oh pooh.

Someone wants Lexi. I'm crying because she's going away and we can't keep her. Sure, we could, but we know that it wouldn't make sense financially. And that's just not fair for her. But gosh, I wish we had a million dollars so we could. They want to get her on a weekend so they can have time to get acquainted before going to work Monday. I'm going out of town tomorrow through Sunday and I'm not sure it's such a good idea to send her off while I'm gone, too. So we have one more week with her before they take her to her new home. I've sure grown attached to that little pumpkin. My little Lexi Loo Hoo, Alexis Montgomery Alistair Stewart DePew, Lexi Bear, Stinky, Mrs. Tinkles, Sweetpea and Turd 2 1/2. I know that they will take care of her, but will they clean her ass like we've been doing the past two weeks since her surgery? Will they be calm and gentle when she has an accident in the house? Will they keep her fit and not overfeed her? We know as fosters going into this that it's a temporary deal. We know it but we don't feel it in our hearts. I'm not so sure that I'm strong enough to be a foster anymore. It breaks your heart to let them go.

The Tin (wo)Man

* cross posted with my "Executive Log" as part of my BUS 4610 class. We have to keep a journal through our process and turn it in at the end of the quarter. I thought I would save some braincells and post it here, too, as it is part of my journey.

I’m faced with both excitement and trepidation as I start my first week back at school in 11 years. There’s a scene in the Wizard of Oz, when Dorothy comes upon the Tin Man rusted up. He whines something to her. She realizes that nearby sits a can of oil and starts to apply oil to his mouth so he can talk. As she continues, the Tin Man comes to life. I feel like my brain is that Tin Man, desperately trying to get through the content that is being thrust at us.

Like the Tin Man I am frustrated and overwhelmed by my own inability to connect the dots in my brain with the outside world. I knew that grad school would be a challenge. It’s not the challenge that scares me; it’s the anxiety I feel. I’ve always been that student in class, the one who is prepared and turn things in on time. (I've enjoyed and been good at school since 6th grade when the light switch turned on.) But I have this feeling that there is something I’m missing, there’s a part or piece of information that I haven’t come across. For years after high school I continue to have anxiety dreams. They are the ones where I’m late for class and don’t know the room number. Or the classic can’t find my locker or remember my locker combination. I know that they reflect a deeper sense of anxiety about my life and really have nothing to do with school.

The strange thing is that I really love beginnings. I’m kind of strange that way. When reading a book or watching a movie, the beginning, or story set up is much more interesting to me than the climax or conclusion. New things excite me. This is the point where I am torn. This new beginning, this grand change and short-term sacrifice that I’ve made for myself is an incredibly exciting and exhilarating new adventure for me. It feels like a roller coaster, and I’m sitting in the front with my hands in the air. My stomach jumps into my throat at each change in pitch. This class is that change. I just didn’t expect it. I don’t know why. The topic is incredibly interesting and compelling to me. I know that I’ll grow through the readings, teamwork and interaction with everyone from the professors to my fellow students.

At the same time, I feel that I’m not prepared for the self-evaluation and reflection that we have to do. I’ve always had this deep held fear that I’m not good enough to be my authentic self. But I know that I don’t help anyone by living small and scared. I hope to learn how to let go of those fears during this journey. My first step involves a can of oil for those rusted out academic joints and a lot of confidence.

I prefer the term 'break up,' thank you.

I did it. I broke up with them. It was hard because they would never call me back. So I did it by email. One step up from a Post-It note.

Today I got this email from my one time boss:

"Wow. If it wasn't bad enough that you "quit us," Jane* from the -deleted- department is going to take over for you. I think a lot of Jane but this isn't up her alley any way, shape or form."

*Jane ain't her name, by the by.

When my BFF got divorced, it wasn't because he was cheating on her, beating her, abusing her, nor was it that she was doing the same. It was because he was ignoring her. Taking her for granted.

A year after they divorced, she's lost 25-30 pounds and has gained new confidence. (I must say, she is HOTT and I'd totally do her.) He's still living in the same house and gaining weight every day. She's been dating and learning new skills, meeting new people and trying new things. He remarked to her recently that he really was an asshole and should have treated her better.

You think?

It's not scientific, but I'd be willing to bet that most relationships end because the people drift apart, or take each other for granted, or just don't pay attention to them. It's no different in business. Well, not for me. I need to know that what I'm doing matters to someone. I need someone to return phone calls and emails in some amount of reasonable time. (not never)

So, yeah, I broke up with them for lack of attention. I broke up with them because I think they were abusing my time and trust. I broke up with them for a lot of reasons. But the truth is, I don't regret it. Not one bit. Not at all.